All I can put it down to the hours, the days I've spent picking apart what exactly happened in my mind at that moment to make me think that was the next step to take - is that for a second I snapped. I had a momentary melt down - a lapse in my usually rational mind.
I instantly regretted it, it was absolutely terrifying and awful for both my other half and myself - he was hurt, shocked, worried and angry. I really do have a happy life and although I have struggled with my mental health at times over the years and I have a bit of anxiety sometimes as many of us do - I've not had proper depression since I was in my teens. I've certainly not done anything like that for a very long time. I am very pleased to report that after lots of big chats with my other half and a good few appointment with a therapists - I'm back to doing ok again. Phew. Brilliant.
Unfortunately though my arm isn't as ready to forgive and move on as my boyfriend was and so for the time being at least I have an angry red scar sitting about 2/3rds of the way up my forearm, reminding me and anyone who cares to look of how sad and desperate I felt in that moment. For the first few weeks after it happened I kept it firmly under a plaster and long sleeved top - then it started being an attention seeker, getting all red and rashy and demanding air.
So I had to take off the plaster and resort to plan b of slathering it with all manners of "scar treatment" lotions and potions - turns out I'm allergic to just about all of them. So for the past few weeks, much to my great joy it's just been sitting there naked, healing at a slower pace than an Adele album.
Not being someone who bares the scars of self harm and struggles with it regularly - this world is new to me. I am so paranoid. I feel like everybody sees it and everybody knows. I feel like I might as well be walking around massive sign saying "BASKET CASE" - I feel like to any one who cares to gawk for long enough at me that I am at best careless with my Christmas wrapping, at worst - a dangerous depressive psychopath who shouldn't be trusted with anything or anyone.
Of course I've lied to everyone, I told my Mum I burnt myself on the kettle, I told my friends I slipped while cutting my hair, I told. I was in a job interview the other day and one of the people on the panel asked me outright "what happened to your arm ?" I went bright red and said loudly "OH GOOOD I AM THE WORST COOK - DONT EVER READ AND CHOP, I LOOK LIKE A BLOODY MAD SELF HARMER DONT I ? FUCKS SAKE." I wanted the ground to swallow me.
I don't think I feel shame because of what I did anymore. I'm gutted yes, but it happened. It happened because I was sad, drunk and I wanted to stop the hurting. That doesn't make me a terrible person. I learned from it and I'm trying my best to make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm being kind to myself. I think I feel shame because of what I feel everyone else thinks about me. I think I feel shame because I've had to lie. Because I felt like if I had told that interviewer the truth they wouldn't have given me the job. Because I feel even my very best friends would feel weird around me if I told them the truth, these the same girls who have held my hair and cooed assurances while I spewed in the toilet and cried after a post break-up vodka binge. Because that form of self harm is somehow ok. But this isn't. This isn't pretty or fun.
Something I have realised - what I really want to say, when people say "What happened to your arm ?" Is this; "Life. Life happened to my arm." I want that to be an acceptable thing to say. I don't want people to recoil away, I don't want them to feel scared, I don't want them to try and fix me. I just want people to know and be accepting of the fact that sometimes people can feel fucking sad and out of control. More people than we think. Sometimes it's just for a second and sometimes it's a daily battle for life. But that doesn't define those people. It doesn't mean that it's all they are and all you should see them as.
I know mental health issues are shit and sad. I know self harm isn't pretty. None of us like it. None of us want it to be in our conversations, in our lives or affecting those we love. But here's the thing guys - I am much less likely to feel all the shitty things I felt in that moment that led me to self harm if you just let me be honest. If it's not a big scary shameful secret. Even if I do it again, I am less likely to sink into a depression if I can find others who have experienced it and we can find strength in each other.
The only way any of this can happen is if we take the stigma and the fear away. If you have a friend who you think may be struggling with self harm - my advice would be that if they want to talk, sit and listen to them. Don't push - don't tell them you think their lying if they want to blame it on the cats nails, but if they do find the bravery to admit the truth - just listen. Be there, ask if there is anything you can do that will help to support them, respect their answer - and then treat them exactly like you always have. Don't be afraid of them. This is how we change things. #itaffectsme
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